


Imperitia

by msimamizizam



Series: Bloodborne NPCs [3]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Gen, POV Second Person, Reader is hunter, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 20:31:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msimamizizam/pseuds/msimamizizam
Summary: A new hunter calls for help, and finds more than what they bargained for.





	Imperitia

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know of any edits, formatting issues, missed tags, or any other improvements I can make, and don't forget to leave kudos and comments if you liked it!

You traced the curve of the bell in your hand, your eyebrows furrowing as you studied its construction. The metal shell was attached to an iron ring by only two dirty, barely white straps, stained with beast blood and age. The messengers had whispered that it was for help,  _ for old hunters _ , and you had not been sure of what they meant until you saw the lamp by the broken fountain.     
  
It glowed a strange color, a warmer shade of red, in contrast to the soft blue of the lamps that took you back to the ethereal hunter's dream. You couldn't trust completely that whoever came to your aid would be any sort of help, but you supposed it wouldn't hurt to try. In any case, you could, at the very least, figure out how to ring the damned thing.    
  
There were four pale, open-faced messengers holding a bell precisely like yours, shaking it every few moments. The solemn chime rung out, bouncing back to you as it met the sides of the corroded copper fountain and abandoned, horseless carriages. You dipped your fingers into the still water beside you, picking up a faded yellow leaf. The gnarled trees around you had, then, once been full, and perhaps the foliage covered the menacingly twisted, knobby branches. Now, it was all laid bare for all to see. At least, those who were left.    
  
And now, you'd spent far too much time daydreaming. The messengers looked up at you, looking at your hand, waiting to respond to your wishes and answer your bell. You held it over them, gripping the ring in your fingers and shaking it once, then twice. The clapper inside struck against the insides with much less rhythm than the messengers' had, but before the first ring even had time to echo back, the four of them had disappeared.    
  
Fantastic.    
  
You looked around at the courtyard, now truly alone. You wondered if, maybe in a time far away from the present, the place had been beautiful. A sparkling, functional fountain surrounded by lovely green trees, park benches to sit and rest on, clean cobblestones. Maybe even children, throwing coins into the bright water for wishes. The picture you could paint with the remains was much prettier than what had been left behind.    
  
You looked back over to the now empty patch of the courtyard and froze when all you could see was a wide chest, covered by an armored shirt and a navy trench coat. The impulse to scream was stuck in your throat, trying to crawl its way out as you looked up at the hulking man before you.    
  
"Hello," he greeted. His voice was a little quieter than you were expecting, but at least he had enough of a mind to say anything at all. You squeaked out some sort of reply as you stumbled back, barely able to muster out the few strangled syllables and half-hearted shake of your weapon that you did. If he meant you any harm, it wouldn't be in your favor if you broke your neck to look up at him.    
  
Apparently, the messengers had sent you a beast to fight beasts.    
  
With more space between you, he leaned forward over his arm, then patiently stared at your frozen frame until the gesture's meaning clicked for you. He watched as you awkwardly jerked yourself into what'd you'd been told was the customary Hunter's Salutations. The hunter's mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile and shook his head. Before you could even frown, let alone open your mouth again, he reached around to the back of your head and forced it down.    
  
"You're not from around here, are you? Head down." He chuckled lowly as you straightened up, eyeing the white-knuckled grip you had on your weapon's handle. "So you've got a contract, from the clinic, eh? No matter. We should find you something better than those filthy rags, if you're going to be a proper hunter."    
  
"I — excuse me?" You glanced down at your clothes, prepared to defend yourself, before you caught the sullied bandages on your left arm. He laughed again as you nervously messed with the literal rags wrapped around your skin, blooded and covered in dirt, your side of the argument dropped immediately.    
  
"There's always someone around who's given up the dream," he said, "we'll find you some hunting attire there." He glanced around, as if searching the boxes and coffins from afar, before he began to pace around the perimeter. You frowned, falling into step behind him, until you saw him crouch over one of the corpses littered around the city.    
  
"Oh, my god," you breathed, suddenly realizing. You stepped back and his face twisted in confusion when you covered your mouth in disgust. "I am not going to wear the clothes someone died in!"    
  
"They're not going to be using them anymore," he frowned, standing up. He towered over you again, and your lungs felt like they were shriveling up and dying in his shadow as he stared you down.    
  
"It's not right," you squeaked out. Of course it wasn't, and perhaps if he'd been shorter you'd be more sure of your position against looting and grave robbing. Your breathing and your hands both shook as you stared at him, and he stared at you.    
  
He grimaced and reached out to put his hand on your shoulder. "It seems there's going to be a lot I'll have to teach you before you become a proper hunter," he grumbled, picking a loose thread off your vest. "Come with me. I know where there's still a set laying around."   
  
He started off for the stairs leading up to the great bridge, then paused and looked back at you. You jolted, then ran to catch up with him, blushing under your hood. You pulled it down to cover your eyes as you jogged a few steps behind, trying to keep pace with his impossibly long legs. The hunter's gloved fingers tapped at the handle of his axe as he paused and waited for you to trot up beside him.    
  
"I am called Father Gascoigne," he said once you'd finally made it. "So you'll know what to yell if you get in trouble."    
  
"Thanks," you said, then stuck your tongue out and walked in front of him. He laughed quietly as you stormed away, watching as you went up onto the landing, disappearing behind a fence covered in tangled vines. A few seconds passed before you sprinted back around it, with three beasts and a mangy dog nipping at your heels. The hunter laughed and stood up straight, cocking his gun and pointing it at the nearest's chest.   
  
"And so the hunt begins."    
  
—   
  
You only wanted to lean against the brick wall for a moment, to catch your breath, but your legs ended up wobbling and falling out from beneath you. The pain of hitting the ground hurt, but the relief balanced it out as you leaned against the fence and looked up into the sky.    
  
The hunter, Father Gascoigne, came up beside you and watched you pant, open-mouthed, like some dog. He laughed quietly as he reloaded his gun, then snapped it back, watching your tongue dart out from behind your lip and threaten to roll out.    
  
"Careful, now," he warned with a slight chuckle, "too much breathing like that and I might mistake you for a beast." You barely moved, except for the slight head tilt after you rolled your eyes.    
  
"Shove off," you breathed, "you'd know me by my 'filthy rags' anywhere, wouldn't you?" He laughed and nodded, looking out over the main road. A werewolf was burning at a stake in the middle of it, with fallen bodies littered around the pyre. At least with the way the wind blew, the stink wasn't drifting over towards the ledge you two were resting on.    
  
"Soon, you'll be dressed properly," he grumbled, side-eyeing your cloth trousers, one pant leg ripped by a claw that swiped too closely. Somehow, the skin underneath was still smooth, only beast blood spattered over it, and not your own. Gasoigne stood up and walked over to a darkened alcove. You pushed yourself off the wall, watching him as he raised his axe, then began to wildly hack at the barrels shoved out of the way.    
  
"What- what are you doing?!" You exclaimed, shielding your eyes from the splinters flying out. Gascoigne glanced over at you and huffed, stepping back and gesturing to what had previously been covered by the coffins and barrels. You frowned as you slowly walked over and peered down over the ledge.    
  
"It's just a hidden path. Yharnam's full of them," Gascoigne said. He reached over and knocked over a set of coffins leaning precariously against a wall. They fell down onto the ledge and nearly crumbled to dust. They'd been there a long time, it seemed. Gascoigne inched against the wall, watching the drop below carefully.    
  
"Careful," you couldn't help but call out over him. He huffed through his teeth, turning back to glare at you, then suddenly jumped off. Your eyes widened and you raced to the edge, looking over to see that he'd only landed on an overhang below, barely classifying as a short drop. He looked up at you and smirked.    
  
"Careful is nice, until it gets you killed," he sneered. "Come down." He looked up at you expectantly, and your stomach dropped once you peered into the dark hole to see just how far the drop was. You couldn't help but tremble. All this shaking couldn't be good for your pistol.    
  
"I don't think I can make that," you said, trying your best to keep your voice even. Gascoigne sighed heavily and dropped his weapons, holding his arms out. You blinked and tilted your head. "What are you doing?"   
  
"I'll catch you," he swore. He huffed when you covered your mouth to hide your laughter. "You're like a child. Just jump. If I was still up there I would have pushed you."   
  
"That's awfully rude," you muttered under your breath, then bit your lip. "I'm going to throw my weapons down first, so watch out." Gascoigne nodded, smoothly side stepping out of the way. You tossed them down as gently as you could, hissing when you overshot slightly and your pistol bounced off the wall with a sharp ding! Gascoigne snickered a bit at your expression.    
  
"You can repair in the dream," he said. "Now, you." He waved you down with one hand, keeping his wide arms outstretched. You swallowed, moving back a bit. He wouldn't let you drop, would he...? That'd be awfully rude, but... he might be too large to fully move out of the way anyhow. And now that you'd sent everything else down there, you didn't have much of a choice.    
  
You stepped back, then sprinted towards the drop, pushing off the edge and falling. In the air, it was a lot longer than you expected, and your heart felt like it was pushing up into your throat, and then it was over. You looked up and flushed a bit when you realized that the hunter had indeed kept his word. You pushed him away, dropping down and pulling your hood over your eyes.    
  
"Don't be proud," he almost snarled, reaching around and pulling it back. He picked up your gun and your weapon, shoving them into your arms before he dropped down to the second ledge. "It doesn't do you any good. You should show your true face, or someone might think you're hiding something."    
  
"Ah... right." You swallowed, looking down and checking the muzzle of your pistol for any new dents. Gascoigne looked up at you, then sighed as you insisted on sitting down and scooting off the edge to drop down. You looked up at him and frowned, narrowing your eyes. "What?"    
  
"Nothing," he deflected, crouching down to see what beasts were guarding the sewers. "You remind me of my daughters. They'd like you." He said no more, tracing the movement of the torchlight in the shadows. You slowly sat down next to him, turning your eyes to the sewers below, watching two engorged rats fighting over scraps.    
  
"You have children?" You asked after the silence had passed for a few moments. The only beast that walked closely enough to the ledge to see you or Gascoigne paid no mind, content to pace along the narrow path.    
  
"Two," he responded, leaning back to sit down normally and rest for another moment. "Both girls. They should be home now, and my wife with them." He chuckled under his breath. "They'd think you were ridiculous, but they like new hunters."    
  
"Oh." You flushed red, reaching up to pull your hood down, but you hesitated for a moment before dropping your hand back down to your side. With the terrible lighting, it wasn't like Gascoigne could see much anyways.    
  
—   
  
The beasts had looked smaller from up on the ledge, but now that you'd finally dropped down to clear them out, you could see that they were twice your size, even hunched over. Gascoigne had dropped down the other side, leaving only one for you to deal with. You swallowed, standing your ground as it lumbered over to you, raising his saw high.   
  
You suddenly whipped your pistol up shooting it square in the chest. The beast faltered, dropping to its knees, giving you the perfect chance to slash at it until it fell to the ground and rose no more. You breathed a sigh of relief when the hulking creature collapsed, its chest still for the moment.    
  
You glanced over to the other side as you reloaded your gun, then smiled when you saw Father Gascoigne pausing to do the same move. The beast roared, raising its torch to smash the flame into his face, then fell to its knees when the other hunter pulled the trigger into its chest. You expected him to take his heavy handed axe and take the beast's head off its shoulders, but he instead dashed forward and shoved his hand into its chest cavity.    
  
Blood sprayed on the walls and a little even fell at your feet when he ripped his hand back out. You blinked incredulously as the beast was launched away from Gascoigne. It tried to push itself up, then gave out, its clouded eyes shutting for good. He looked over at you and frowned at your slack-jawed expression.    
  
"Have you never ripped the beasthood from a man's heart?" He frowned, then beckoned you over at the sound of a third monster's growling as it paced a little further ahead. He motioned for you to walk in front of him, then leaned down and raised your arm as you rounded the corner.    
  
"Wait for it to raise its weapon, pull the trigger, and then strike," he instructed. The beast began to rush towards the two of you. You fought the urge to begin shaking again, but even still, Gascoigne gripped your arm and held it steady as the creature raised its lance up, ready to drive it into your skull.    
  
"Now!" He roared. You squeezed your finger and the bullet struck the creature's chest, sending it to its knees. You looked at your hand, only for a moment, then stepped forward and drove your fingers into its ribcage. The skin was surprisingly giving, and you slipped past the beast's bones and its lungs to take hold of its still beating heart. You gripped it tight and then ripped it out, blood spraying over the walls and yourself. Gascoigne stepped back, smirked when the beast's body limply fell over the edge and into the sewers below.    
  
"Is it dead?" You whispered, looking down at your hand. Gascoigne nodded, wrinkling his nose at the even more disgusting state your bandages had found themselves in. You sighed as you looked down at your clothes, stained beyond repair. They truly were rags, soaking up any bit of blood and filth you found. Unfortunately, you'd have to agree with Father Gascoigne about the state they were in.    
  
"Come," he said. "There's another beast down there, and the rats aren't going to kill themselves." You looked up at him and nodded, leading the way over to the ladder. A moment later, you were slowly descending deeper into Yharnam.    
  
—   
  
You ripped your hand back, launching the lifeless body of another hunchbacked beast over the edge. Gascoigne came up along side you, leaning over to watch the creature fall to its death. You heard a faint splash as smashed into the ground a few stories below. Gascoigne chuckled quietly and looked back at you.    
  
"Very good," he said, quietly. He walked over to a dark shape on the ground where the beast had been standing a few moments before, toeing at it. When the head lolled to the side, you suddenly understood what he'd found. "This one seems to be about your size." He bent down and began to unbuckle the many loops and straps that held the garb tight to the dead hunter's body. You eventually crouched down, pulling the pants and boots off. With the blood, bruises, and rot covering the body, it didn't look like much a person anymore.    
  
Gascoigne neatly folded the clothes, holding them out to you. You took them slowly, feeling their weight in your hands. This was what hunters in Yharnam were supposed to wear, he'd said. The garb was heavier than you'd expected, and though the hat looked worn and the coat faded, none of it had torn. Perhaps the hunter just fell, them. Tired of the dream, tired of the hunt, tired of life. But not you. Not yet.    
  
You went into the corner, and Gascoigne turned away, scanning the shadows for any movement as you peeled your bloodied clothes off your body. They were all you'd brought with you when you came for treatment. The last pieces of who you used to be, stained by the hunt and the person you'd become. You fixed the hat over your body and breathed, looking down at your muddled reflection.    
  
"A proper hunter," Gascoigne noted once you'd turned around. You smiled and nodded, pushing your hat up just a little, to show more of your face.    
  
—   
  
The archway that opened up before you was tall, seeming to stretch into the sky. At the end of the road, you could see a wooden gate. A beast was pacing at the end of the road, antlers pushing out of its malformed skull. It screeched abhorrently every few minutes, and for a moment you thought it'd finally given up on trying to scare the crows away, but then it let out another scream as you tried to organize your bag.    
  
You dropped your sack, and everything inside tumbled out. Gascoigne picked up one of your molotovs, slightly amused, then twitched when a small tinkling noise filled the air. You looked up and laughed a bit when you caught sight of a tiny music box, laying open on the cobblestones.    
  
He chuckled a bit and picked it up, turning it over in his hands for a moment. He traced his thumb over the edge before putting it back in your bag. You nodded once you'd collected everything, counting twice, then stood up and looked over at the beast.    
  
"This is it," Gascoigne said, loading his gun and watching the monstrosity at the far end. He stepped to the side and looked down at you as you adjusted the grip on your weapons. "After you."    
  
"Such a gentleman," you laughed as you rolled your eyes. The creature slammed one of its large, fur-covered fists into the ground before it raised its head and screeched into the night sky. You tilted your hat back, adjusted your collar, then stepped over the archway and into the arena. The beast looking over at you, then roared and charged. You didn't have to look at him to know Gascoigne had stepped in after you, and kept your eyes on the monster in front of you. You weren't shaking.    
  
The final hunt had begun.    
  
—   
  
You couldn't help but smile widely as the beast fell to the ground and exploded into dust. The messengers had whispered about this, about the end of the hunt. You collapsed to the ground and panted, trying to catch your breath and steady your hands. The hunt was over, wasn't it? Your prey had been slaughtered!    
  
"Don't look too relieved, now," Gascoigne warned, walking over and holding his arm out to you. You pulled yourself up and then burst into laughed, pumping your fist into the air.    
  
"It's over!" You yelled. "I did it- we did it! Didn't we?" You looked up at him, your face slowly dropping as he grimaced. "What's wrong?"    
  
"This hunt is far greater than any of the hunts before it," Gascoigne said, glancing over at the gate. "It's far from over, but I have to take my leave." He stepped back and then bowed to you. You tried to copy the motion, but you couldn't keep your eyes off his somber expression, and you couldn't help but mirror the same strange sadness, even if you didn't understand the reason he wore it.    
  
"Don't look at me like that." He laughed quietly, forcing your head down all the way into the proper gesture. You smile a bit as you straightened up, holding your hand out.    
  
"Perhaps we'll meet again?" You looked up at him, and Father Gascoigne slowly took your hand. The size of his dwarfed yours as he shook it solidly, then stepped back. Already, a blue glow encircled his feet. The messengers calling him back to the dream.    
  
"Perhaps," he echoed, before the aura swallowed him completely and he disappeared. The world seemed empty, for a moment, but if he said the hunt was not over yet, then you had no choice but to straighten up and keep on. You'd cleared most of Central Yharnam, but there had to be more to the city. More to cleanse of the beastly scourge.    
  
You walked over to the gates and pulled hard on the iron rings, then froze once they barely gave at all. You heard the bolt rattling around inside the door, frowning as you glanced back at where the beast had fallen. What was the point of protecting the bridge if the gate was locked?!    
  
You hit the wood and screamed in frustration, then took a deep breath and turned around. You'd heard there was another way. All you had to do was find it.    
  
—   
  
The graveyard was much darker and much more twisted than you expected when you first glanced around. Everything was tilted to the side— the gravestones, the giant statue in the center, the sculpted lantern holders. Most of the iron lamps were broken, but two of them still had some light left, casting what little they had left over the strangle placed gravestones.    
You'd never seen anyone buried in a circle, but you'd seen stranger things already in Yharnam, and you felt it wasn't your place to judge how others disposed of their dead. You weren't sure what the place would have looked like before the night began.    
  
You were torn away from your daydreaming by the sharp ring of metal on stone. You followed the noise, which trailed back a tall man in the back. He had his back to you as he slowly raised his axe up, then let it fall onto the beast below him. A set of limp bodies were beside you, laying in their blood on the ground, hacked to pieces— enough that you weren't even sure if it really was two separate beings. He'd obviously been through, whoever he was, although...  you were sure you'd seen that scarf before.    
  
With a final swing, the head of the beast fell off and rolled across the ground. You caught the glint of the lamplight in its blank eyes as the rest of its body went limp.    
  
"Beasts all over the shop," you heard from the other end of the graveyard. "You'll be one of them, sooner or later." You frowned, stepping forward. You couldn't be sure, from this far away, but, it could be, couldn't it? The soft "er" and "s," the quiet rasp... no, rather, it couldn't be anyone but him.    
  
"Father Gascoigne?" You called out. He turned around, and you lit up, raising your hand to wave to him. He grinned, and you could see as much from where you were standing with the way the light reflected off his teeth, but his canines seemed a little too long. Your arm slowly fell, your feet wanting to move, your body wanting to shake, but you couldn't. This was the hunt, but... this couldn't possibly be the beast. There had to be a mistake.    
  
You opened your mouth to call out to him, but he paid no mind. He was much more focused on dashing across the graveyard and aiming his gun for your head. You dove behind a set of gravestones, covering your ears as the shot hit the stone and sent dust raining over your head.    
  
"Wait," you started, but before you could get another word out he came around and swung the axe overhead. You barely dodged the blow, sparks flying at you as he connected with a stone instead. You ducked as he swiped at the air, then darted behind a tree when he brought his blunderbuss up again. When you dared to peek out again, it was only to race to the other end, trying to put some distance in between the two of you. You fumbled with the pistol, shots ringing out as you aimed blindly and kept running.   
  
If you dared to glance behind you, Gascoigne was on your heels with another violent swing of his axe. You felt the wind at the back of your neck, nearly sharp enough to cut in the weapon's place, and then you felt the ground when you tripped over a terribly, unfortunately placed brick. You slammed into the dirt and your bag was sent sprawling, molotovs, blood vials, and one tiny music box rolling over the stones.    
  
Gascoigne fell back, clutching his head and muttering to himself. You scrambled to your feet, whirling around to watch him sway on his feet unsteadily. You clutched the box closely, stepping back and swallowing.   
  
"It's me," you pleaded, "you remember, right? Gascoigne?" His name hung heavy in the air for a moment. His hands dropped back to his sighed and he seemed to see you for a moment, but only to bring the axe around and slash at you again.    
  
You turned around, barely in enough time to miss your ribcage being laid bare for the world to see. Even though you'd turned around and thought you dodged, you didn't get out so easily, and the axe slashed through a good chunk of your arm. You let out a scream as blood sprayed out of the wound, your fingers twitching violently as the pain shot up and down the whole limb. You weapon fell with a clatter, abandoned behind you.     
  
Gascoigne watched you stumble away, reaching up to wipe a bit of your blood off his face. He looked down at the red shining on his fingers, then frowned at the trail of red on the cobblestones below.    
  
"What's that smell?" He inhaled deeply, then smirked when he rounded the corner and saw you digging around in your bag, searching for another blood vial, or anything, really. "The sweet blood, it sings to me.... It's enough to make a man sick," he rasped as he sprinted towards you.    
  
You glanced up just in time to catch the hunter racing towards you. The scream was stuck in your throat as you scrambled up the stairs. Your fingers trembled as you slammed into a gate at the top, shaking it. You whipped your head around as you heard Gascoigne yell, then narrowly avoided a spray of sparks as he slammed his axe into the iron.    
  
You backed up slowly, holding your gun up as Gascoigne stalked towards you. He barked out a harsh laugh before slamming his foot into your chest, and there you thought you'd break your back on the stone railing, but you just kept falling, onto the top of the mausoleum, and then slipping off the blood-slicked roof to the ground below.    
  
Your eyes were barely open, your lungs felt like they'd been crushed. Your head pounded like the steps of Gascoigne as he dropped down to the ground and walked over to you. You felt blood trickling down your cheek from your nose, and as soon as you had recovered enough to draw in a gulp of air, Gascoigne's shoe was pushing down on your chest to force it all back out.    
  
"Too proud to show your true face, eh?" He chuckled a bit as you tried to fight his weight, raising his axe in the air. Your eyes finally focused on the glint of the hunter's axe in the lamplight as Gascoigne held it in the air for a moment, watching you struggle. "But what a sporting hunt, it was."    
  
Your head rolled to the side, staring down at your hand. Something else was shining in your hand, catching the light of the lanterns and reflecting it back to your dull eyes. You twisted your wrist, squinting at it, and then you realized. It wasn't time for you to dream just yet.    
  
You raised your pistol and pulled the trigger. Gascoigne stumbled and fell back, dropping to his knees. You pushed yourself off the dirt and pulled yourself up on his shoulders, before driving your fingers into his cavity and ripping the beasthood from his heart.    
  
The force of it sent Gascoigne into a set of headstones, breaking his fall as much as the weathered stone possibly could, since it nearly crumbled at the weight of him knocking it over. You pulled yourself up, your legs wobbling, your lungs burning. You wiped the blood from your nose with the back of your hand and watched his body twitch. Once he'd been still for a moment, you bent down to pick up a stray blood vial from the ground, but kept your eyes on him.    
  
"Gascoigne...? Father?" You weakly called out. You poured the concoction down your throat, the liquid feeling like needles even as it healed your weakness. Gascoigne finally began to push himself up, looking towards you. He dropped his axe and stumbled back, shaking his head and gripping his hair.    
  
"I'm- I'm fine," you tried to assure him, watching as his body began to violently shake. Could he even hear you? "Did I do it right? Do... do you remember me?"    
  
Gascoigne opened his mouth, but it was only to howl into the sky as his clothes began to rip, seam from seam. It wasn't his roar that was doing it, but his body, as fur began to push out between the ripped cloth. His bones elongated. His muscles swelled.    
  
There was no mistake. This was your hunt.    
  
You stared wide-eyed until Gascoigne's body stopped morphing. He'd turned into a kind of beast you'd never seen before, much bigger than anything that normally stalked the streets of Yharnam. He turned to look at you again, each pant sending a shudder through his hulking frame. Your feet were already moving when he launched himself at you, slamming his shoulders into a group of gravestones. You sprinted around the tilting statue in the middle, ducking as he whirled around and swiped wildly at you.    
  
Once one foot made it to the steps, you used the leverage to launch yourself up the stairs. However, it wasn't like beasts couldn't climb stairs, and he was close behind once he'd sniffed you out. You feinted back as he slashed in the air, dodging back behind a solid metal coffin. His claws bounced off, narrowly avoiding your eye.    
  
You clutched your gun close, searching your pockets for anything left as Gascoigne roared. You pulled out your last bullet, shakily reloading your pistol as the beast dashed forward into the gate. He slammed into it, howling as he turned to face you.    
  
"Let me try again," you said, cocking the gun and pointing it at his chest. You swallowed and clenched your fist, waiting for the right moment. He raised one monstrous arm, his sharpened claws glinting the lamplight, but it never hit. The shot landed in his chest, point-blank, and he doubled over.    
  
You walked forward with a purpose, drawing your hand back and then forcing it into Gascoigne's chest. You fought his body as it tried to push you out, blood running down your arm and pooling onto the cobblestones. You clawed into his body, molding it to your will, and when your fingers finally wrapped around his heart, you gripped it and tore it out of his body.    
  
Gascoigne's body smashed into the locked gate, hard enough that it swung back on its hinges with a loud screech. You stared at him as he gave one final attempt at getting back up, his shoulders barely pushing off the ground.    
  
"Forgive me," he croaked, his voice distorted by the fangs that had pushed through his gums, before he fell against the road and was no more. You fell to your knees as he dissolved into dust, blinking dumbly. There wasn't even anything left to take with you. He was entirely, completely, gone.    
  
Something hit your face. One thing, then many things. You looked up, squinting into the sky as it slowly began to rain. You didn't even know Yharnam had rain. You held out your hands, letting the blood wash off you as you stood up.    
  
This hunt was greater than any before it, and it was far from over.    
  



End file.
